Tripped over this stencil spray-painted on the sidewalk at the corner of Jarvis and Queen the other day – Leafs nation: spirit is everything Raptors nation: we prefer winning.[briefbreak]
Gotta love the attitude of Raptors nation, even if the team isn’t exactly tearing it up right now.
It’s cocky. So American. So young. So in your face like a long range three from the top of the key. It’s hip. Its got hop. It’s goal oriented. Raptors nation exudes pride.
Leafs nation, on the other hand, not so much. The ‘tude is, well, so Canadian. It’s staid. It’s old. It’s comfortable, like an old blanket that you just can’t bring yourself to throw away.
Not that winning’s everything, but you’d think that the team would aspire to … something.
It’s a tale of two cities. One team reflects the city of old. The other, all that’s brash and new. Which do we want to personify the T.O. we live in?
If you’ve been to a Leafs game any time since say, the early 90s, the answer’s easy.
The building’s usually dead quiet, the congregants waiting for something to happen, all very happy to go along with whatever transpires.
Close your eyes and you can almost imagine the fedora-dotted crowds from those grainy images of yesteryear shown from time to time on the CBC.
The so-called “spirit” is largely non-existent, or at least, shoved well below the surface. Toronto the staid. Respectful, sedate, lacking any sense of adventure. Like the city most of use grew up knowing.
The energy at Raptors games is in your face from the moment you step into the building. The music’s loud. The vibe is urban.
The crowd may be largely white, but the enthusiasm’s cross cultural, infecting even the high rollers in the $300 a pop courtside seats.
As a kid growing up in the west end, there were many nights spent taking slap shots at an empty net until hunger finally got the best of me, or the long shadows cast by the street lights made it impossible to see the ball anymore.
I can still remember that fuzzy Paul Henderson jersey I got one Christmas, that is when hockey sweaters were still made of wool. It was 30 below outside, but I couldn’t wait to show it off.
In Canada, at least the predominantly white part, childhoods are filled with memories of hockey. We’re a country shinny obsessed.
But it’s no longer the only game in town.
Those idyllic scenes of hockey dreams made on ice ponds in small rural outposts, and etched on holiday postage stamps, are being replaced, like so much dusty nostalgia.
There’s a new kid on the block with a more confident roar. Welcome to the new Toronto.[rssbreak]
